


Discretion

by onlytheshortones



Category: Veep
Genre: M/M, Secret Relationship, a lot of background characters but idk tagging etiquette anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 14:51:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4309437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlytheshortones/pseuds/onlytheshortones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It feels good to be getting away with this. Sure, they can scapegoat him for mistakes he never made, but they can’t stop him from fucking the pointless giant in their own administrative building while he’s supposed to be working on their policy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discretion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rillrill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rillrill/gifts).



> A little late for Liz's birthday, but here's the not-so-secretly-fucking fic I said I was gonna write like a month ago. As with most, it was pretty inspired by fuckboy chat so thanks to the squad for this.

It’s not that Dan’s _bored_. It’s just that the novelty has worn off. The first time it happened, it was illicit and thrilling (once it stopped being gross and confusing), and the next few times it was still getting better and still felt like something shocking and new. But then it had become something of a routine, and now he’s just…fucking Jonah Ryan. And it’s good and all (weirdly so. He probably should have assumed that Jonah’s gigantic mouth was good for something, but he didn’t, and that was, well, a nice surprise) but he’s still fucking Jonah Ryan, and that’s not just something people like Dan do on the regular.

So he’s not bored, but something still needs to change. He needs to up the ante, because if he doesn’t, he’s just a shell of wasted sexual potential fucking Jonah Ryan. And he’s not a waste of _anything_. Except maybe the peoples’ faith in good governance but who the fuck cares about the people.

He still goes through the motions. Because he may need something more to wash down the shame of it all, but _god_ it’s still good in the meantime. He drinks at his usual bar and pretends it’s not planned when Jonah slides into the seat next to him. And pretends it’s not planned when he loosens his tie and raises his eyebrow just so, and when they share a cab back to Dan’s place, and when Jonah fucks him into the mattress. But after, when they’re lying in bed and Jonah’s smirking at him, he can’t really pretend it wasn’t planned, and he has to face the reality of the situation: his sex life is two things he never meant it to be: monogamous and predictable. And he can’t have that.

 

And it would be stupid, it would be beyond stupid to go where he was going, but…it would also be more than a little hot. The thrill of sleeping with Jonah Ryan, of slumming it so hard he’d never admit it in a thousand years has gotten…old. Stale, maybe. He’s almost _comfortable_ with the whole arrangement. It doesn’t feel quite as dirty anymore, quite as wrong, as sadistic. And isn’t that the point?

Yeah, it’s stupid, but he wants it to feel that way again. That rush of adrenaline, that feeling of his stomach dropping out when…yeah, he definitely wants it to feel that way again. So fuck it, he’s going through with this.

The hallway to the tiny office they assigned Jonah is quiet, empty, which is probably better, he thinks. His heart is beating fast enough as it is when he knocks on Jonah’s door. Which, is, you know, bullshit. He’s the iceman, he should not be nervous right now.

“Yes, come in,” he hears Jonah call in his tepid work voice, and suddenly he feels the ball in his stomach unclench into excitement. He shakes his head to clear it before pushing the door open.

“Oh,” Jonah greets him, not sounding quite as excited as Dan would have hoped. “Hey, Dan.” In fact, he sounds almost…apprehensive. Dan wonders if he knows what’s coming. He slides through the door and leans against it when he closes it.

“What do you—“ Jonah starts to ask, but Dan shushes him, stretching against the door at what he thinks might be his most attractive angle. He looks Jonah up and down and bites his lip. This is an almost embarrassingly obvious move, but it’s also Jonah, who isn’t exactly one for subtlety.

Jonah swallows hard—Dan watches his Adam’s apple bob up and down—and clears his throat.

“Do you, uh…want something, Dan?”

Dan almost rolls his eyes because he couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity. “I think you know what I want,” he says, low in his throat like he’s in a fucking porno because, again, it’s Jonah, and the art of seduction would be totally lost on him anyway.

Dan watches Jonah’s face break from confused to apprehensive to grudgingly excited. He reaches down next to him for the doorknob and slowly turns the lock, eyes not moving from Jonah’s.

Slowly, a shit-eating grin spreads across Jonah’s face. Dan moves into the room.

“Really?” Jonah sounds young, fresh, excited, and it’s enough to make Dan want to back out but he’s in it now, so he crosses the room in a few long strides.

 

At first, the danger does it for him—the sneaking out to Jonah’s office, sex against the wall in the corner, the occasional blowjob in the EEOB bathroom. When Dan’s fired it gets that much harder, having to avoid his own persona non grata status, trying to find a way in because Jonah can’t sign him in on record. They pull it off once or twice before Dan gets hired by Sidney Purcell and can at least schedule appointments in the building.

At some point he realizes that the thrill (while absolutely not gone, he thinks, with Jonah bent over the desk, hearing Kent’s voice move down the hallway outside) might not really be the reason he keeps coming back. That it might be something more to do with his isolation, with his being cast out from the administration he’d made his own fucking corner of the sky for the past three goddamn years.

It feels good to be getting away with this. Sure, they can scapegoat him for mistakes he never made (and tried to cover up, because that was his fucking job, and if there’s one thing Dan Egan can do, it’s discretion), but they can’t stop him from fucking the pointless giant in their own administrative building while he’s supposed to be working on their policy.

So fine, it is a thrill. But not the thrill of slumming it anymore. The thrill of fucking over Selina—excuse him—President Meyer, and getting away with it.

 

Jonah’s down on his knees for him on the rough carpet of Jonah’s office when there’s a knock on the door. They jolt, Jonah rears back, nearly choking himself in the process, both sets of eyes hard on the lock because fuck it all if they’ve been careless. Dan’s not even supposed to be here, much less cock out with Jonah flushed and obvious on his knees.

The doorknob doesn’t turn. “Mr. Ryan?” Richard’s voice asks from outside.

Dan rolls his eyes and starts to pull himself together, because honestly nothing kills the mood like Richard.

Jonah stands up and starts trying to brush wrinkles from his pants. “Yeah?”

“Sir, I have the documents you asked for from Congressman Furlong out here.”

Dan glares at him and points to the door. “What the fuck—” he whispers.

 “Okay, um, I’m a little swamped in here,” Jonah calls out, eyes wide, shrugging at Dan. “You can come back with those in about twenty minutes.”

Dan rolls his eyes and leans back against the desk, starting to calm down. Richard won’t come in, he’s about to leave, and Dan will be able to get out of here fine, and…maybe Richard himself is a mood-killer but the interruption caused some adrenaline and nerves and some physical effects thereof, and it might be worth staying a little bit longer after all.

“Absolutely sir. Can I get you anything? A scone, maybe?” Richard asks.

Dan sighs. Maybe Richard won’t leave.

“No, I’m fine, thanks,” Jonah spits, hurriedly, clearly trying to get rid of him, shifting from foot to foot quickly, nervously.

“And anything for Mr. Egan?”

What. The. Fuck. Dan turns abruptly to face Jonah, who’s bright red.

“What? Dan? Dan’s not here!” he says, his voice up a pitch, entirely too obvious for Dan’s liking.

“I thought I saw him—”

“Dan’s not here!” Jonah snaps, still too breathy and high, for fuck’s sake, who does he think he’s kidding, goddamn fucking Jonah.

“Are you sure, sir, I—”

“I’m not. Fucking. Here. Asshole,” Dan spits through gritted teeth.

“He’s not here,” Jonah adds, which is, in Dan’s opinion totally unnecessary.

“Oh, right. Yes, sir. Of course,” Richard’s voice through the door seems to suddenly understand. Took him fucking long enough, Dan thinks.

“I’ll just be back with these documents in a little while then,” he says, and then they are finally, blissfully, alone. Jonah is bright red, looking ashamed, like Dan is gonna scold or hit him or something. And it’s not as though the thought doesn’t cross Dan’s mind, but nothing about Richard fucking Splett having the power to destroy him and his reputation is sexy, and if he’s not getting off, then hitting Jonah is just…hitting Jonah. So he just moves toward the door.

“Do you think it’s clear out there?” he asks, indicating with his head.

Jonah shrugs, but doesn’t move to check like he usually does. He still looks shaken, and like he wants to say something. Dan counts backward from twenty in his head, giving Jonah a window to get the words out. When he hits seven, Jonah finally opens his mouth.

“What are we gonna do about…that?” he asks, gesturing towards the door.

“Make sure he doesn’t fucking say anything,” Dan snaps back. The obvious answer.

“Yeah, okay. He won’t. But…”

“But what, guyscraper?” Dan hisses.

“Is this just gonna…” Jonah pauses, as if he’s weighing his words. “Keep happening? In secret like this?”

“As opposed to publicly?” Dan sneers. “What, you wanna fuck in the briefing room in front of all the press?”

“Dan, can you just stop being a shit for like, twelve seconds, and talk to me straight about this?”

Dan doesn’t know what it is, maybe Jonah’s barely-there panic, but something makes him bite back the “don’t think I can talk to you _straight_ about this” that was forming beneath his tongue and actually try.

“What, Jonah, do you really think this is anyone else’s business?” he says, his voice coming out smaller than usual, which he hates.

Jonah shrugs. “I don’t love the whole sneaking around thing,” he says simply.

Dan raises his eyebrows and takes a step towards him. “You don’t?”

Jonah swallows hard. “Don’t…” he trails off as Dan takes another step. “Okay, fine, it’s hot. But…”

“But nothing,” Dan coaxes, taking another step that puts him closer to Jonah than is entirely necessary. “It’s pretty fucking hot.”

Jonah exhales.

 

As Dan leaves the building, he can’t help himself from smirking, just a little.

 

There’s this one thing. And it’s that he’s been doing well. Like, really well. He feels good, most of the time. He’s kicking ass at work, he’s having hot sex, albeit with Jonah but fuck if it isn’t _good_. He hasn’t felt sick to his stomach in weeks. He fucked up a report the other day and corrected the mistake with little to no blowback. He’s doing _well_. And he doesn’t want to put it down to Jonah, but he can’t help but notice that the weekend Jonah goes to New Hampshire to visit his mother is the worst weekend Dan has in a while.

But still, it’s not about Jonah himself. It’s about the relationship, it’s about the control and the secrecy and the rush. And he feels it becoming more than just sexual, feels it becoming something reliable, but he doesn’t altogether mind. He’s doing _well_ , and this is contributing, and that’s nothing to scoff at.

 

Dan’s out drinking with some other asshole lobbyists from PKM, because fuck it, it’s not like he has anything better to do, and good will with his colleagues can’t hurt anything in this new world. Amy declined not-so-respectfully, and he’s starting to see why. Because fine, these guys are pricks, but whatever, he’s a prick, being a prick is hardly a dealbreaker in this business, but Jesus fucking Christ how is it that any four people can be so goddamn _boring_?

He’s actually relieved when his eye catches on Bill Ericsson drinking with Kent, Mike, and Ben at the bar, just because it gives him an excuse to step away from his drinking companions. So he’s up from his table and he’s crossing the room and then he’s just behind them when he hears his own name.

“Since Dan, you’d expect him to have picked up some political savvy,” Bill says. “But he’s still dropping the fucking ball like an eight-year old girl playing jacks.”

Dan freezes. Are they talking about his ousting? He plants his feet firmly, turns sideways so he’s not too obviously listening in, and then…listens in.

“I’m not one for locker room talk,” Kent says. There’s a pause, as if he has nothing more to say, then he picks up the thread again, awkwardly. “But you may all continue.”

“Locker room?” Mike asks. “What?”

“I’m as surprised as I’ve ever been,” Ben says, deadpan, ignoring Mike’s question. “If anyone seemed likely to get some sense fucked into them, it’s that disfigured Frankenstein muppet.”

“Who’s fucking Jonah?” Mike asks, then “Who’s fucking Jonah?” again, his voice up an octave.

“Dan,” Bill says, as though it’s obvious. Dan’s stomach drops to his feet. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“What?” Mike says, angrily. “I didn’t want to know that!”

Kent and Bill chuckle.

“Yeah, it’s been about…what, four, five months?” Ben asks. _Six_ , Dan corrects in his head. That careful discretion he had worked so hard on had lasted exactly one fucking month.

“I will say this,” Kent says, measured and calm. “I have found Jonah’s presence notably diminished. And for that I will make no complaints.”

Ben and Bill raise their glasses, and Mike takes a sip, still looking troubled. Dan turns on his heel and walks out of the bar, without his coat, without so much as a goodbye to his coworkers.

The night air hits him and he’s down the block before he even pauses. He leans back against a Laundromat window and takes a deep breath. Fuck. He’s been so _stupid._ So stupid and so arrogant.

He catches his breath, goes home, pops an Ambien, crawls into bed, and tries to forget this ever happened.

 

He’s at work the next morning, operating just fine, because nobody says a word about his personal life, and nobody cares, really. It’s bubbling just under the surface, sure, but the morning goes almost unnaturally smoothly, not tapping into even his mildest insecurities.

But then he has a lunch meeting with big oil and he trips over his words and these guys are not forgiving and then suddenly he is very aware of everything, and he holds it together, makes it through the lunch, shakes hands, leaves the restaurant. When he gets back to the office he throws up in the small bathroom and returns to find Amy sitting at his desk.

“Rough night?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he replies absently, thinking she won’t pry if he doesn’t offer details.

“I just wanted to strategize for tonight,” she says.

“Okay.” Dan sinks down in the chair across from his desk, not in the mood to fight her for dominance. She raises her eyebrows but he doesn’t rise. “What are you thinking?” he asks her. She starts talking, planning something elaborate and devious, and he isn't really following but he trusts her implicitly at this point, and while any other day he'd want to be as involved as possible, right now he's just trying to breathe in without smelling the vomit on his breath. So he sits back and nods and lets his eyes glaze over and waits for her to leave him be.

"Dan?" she asks. 

He looks up. "Hmm?" He's clearly missed a question or a decision, or something, and Amy is looking at him with something a lot like pity and what's worse than that is that he doesn't think he has it in him to care.

She shakes her head. “Dan, get your shit together.”

“My shit is together,” he says dully.

“Really? Because you haven't listened to a word I said, you smell like a cheap bar bathroom, and what the fuck kind of lobbyist lets someone else sit at their desk?” she asks.

“I’m tired, Amy. Let’s just figure out—”

“Nope,” she says, standing up. “Go see Jonah, get your fucking swag back or whatever, and then we’ll plan.”

“What?” Dan asks.

She turns on her way to the door. “We will talk about your horrendous taste and possible STDs later, Dan. I will drive you to the EEOB myself if that’s what it takes to get your shark teeth back from the fucking dentist.”

Dan doesn’t know if it’s just the pure fatigue or the amount of bullshit, but he lets his shoulders sag and nods. “I can get there myself,” he says. Amy leaves his office.

 

He hates that he goes. He hates that she’s right. He hates that seeing Jonah will actually get him back in the fighting spirit, that he’s somehow come to rely on Jonah fucking Ryan. But most of all he hates that this isn’t a secret anymore. That he’s going in to hook up with his…whatever, and everyone in the West Wing fucking knows it.

And of course, as his luck would have it, Jonah’s not in his office. Dan waits outside (because for some fucking reason, the door is locked) and thinks things over. He realizes that he doesn’t quite know why he’s here—that is, he doesn’t know the payout. He knows he needs it, needs the release, needs _something_ , but doesn’t know where the rush is going to come from anymore. Now that the secrecy is out the window (and apparently has been all along), there’s no pride in fucking over the administration. In fact, Kent said that just by taking Jonah away from his responsibilities, he was inadvertently helping their agenda along. Dan isn’t winning anything except an orgasm, and that’s not how Dan operates. That’s no gain at all.

“Mr. Egan?”

Dan whips around, and Richard is standing there, holding two coffees and smiling like a fucking cherub.

“Are you looking for Mr. Ryan?”

Dan rolls his eyes and raises his eyebrows.

“Right, right,” says Richard. “Of course you are, that’s why you’re outside his office.” He laughs, high and just a little off. “He’s at a meeting down the hall with Mr. Davison and Mr. Ericsson.”

And then something clicks in Dan’s head. Just exactly what he could gain from this encounter. “Yeah, could you show me to that meeting?” he asks. “I’m a little late, sorry.”

“Oh, of course, yes sir,” Richard says, then escorts Dan down the hall.

It’s stupid, it’s petty, it’s a waste of time, but when Dan walks into the meeting and sees Bill Ericsson’s eyes catch on him (sure along with about a dozen white house staffers), it’s one hundred percent worth it to keep his eye contact as he leans down, puts his mouth to Jonah’s ear, and says quite audibly, “I need you for something very very important.”

Jonah blushes red, and Dan winks at Ericsson, and there’s the rush, because hell, if it’s not secret anymore, there’s gotta be a little something to throwing it in these peoples’ smug faces, that their most competent enemy is fucking their least competent employee, and that he has the power, and if they weren’t afraid of the gay agenda before, maybe they fucking should be.


End file.
